


2041

by ElapsedSpiral



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: M/M, Too fluffy by far for these old bastards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 23:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17886854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElapsedSpiral/pseuds/ElapsedSpiral
Summary: 2041 and Murdoc and Stuart have a disagreement - what's changed?





	2041

“I said “get ready or I'll twat you”.”

When Murdoc still doesn't respond, Stuart jabs at his own ear. Murdoc tries and fails to flick the switch on one hearing aid with a shaking hand before giving up with a shrug. He gestures for Stuart to turn them on for him and, with a concentrated effort, Stuart manages the fiddly motions. 

“I said-”

“I know what you said, I'm not deaf.”

“You fucking are!” 

“Not that deaf,” Murdoc concedes with a playful twitch of his lips. 

“Why d'you turn the fuckers off?”

“Depeche Mode.”

It takes a moment for Stuart to get the reference. “You don't remember what you had for breakfast but you can crack a Depeche Mode joke?”

“Get my kicks where I can nowadays. I turned them off because all you're doing is wittering on about it and I'm not going.”

“It won't be that bad.”

Murdoc pulls a face. “Won't be that bad? They're telling me I'm an old fart. They're the grim fucking reaper.”

“It's a fucking lifetime achievement award.”

Murdoc keeps watching him as though waiting for Stuart to finish his argument. When Stuart clamps his mouth shut and glowers silently back, Murdoc scoffs. “They're only giving it us because they made that movie. Everyone wants a piece of us now, don't they?”

“You sold them the fucking rights!”

“They took advantage of me. I'm a vulnerable old man, I didn't know what I was signing.”

“Piss off, you bought a fucking Jag, a house in Spain, that basement extension.”

Murdoc wafts a dismissive hand as he shuffles towards the wardrobe and studies the suit hanging there. Stuart catches how his gaze flicks to his reflection in the wardrobe's mirror, shaking hand reaching up to stroke his relatively kempt beard. “It looks like that one I wore to court.”

“Which time?”

“What's the album with the dancehall?”

“Narrow it down.”

“The album with the dancehall and the clocks.”

“Humanz.”

Murdoc seemingly tries to calculate the year before giving up with a scowl. “That time.”

“Well, it's black and it's a suit, yeah.”

Murdoc ignores the snide comment and Stuart tries not to bristle now he knows full well Murdoc heard him. “Who's giving us the award?”

Stuart grimaces. Murdoc takes one look at his expression and gives him an unimpressed smirk. “They're letting those fucking actors give it to us? Couldn't get anyone we fucking respect?”

“Name someone you respect who's not dead.”

Murdoc pulls out the suit and flings it on the bed. “Then they should post me the fucker instead. Is it gold at least? Can we melt it down?”

“For what? What do you need gold for?”

“Could get some posh fillings.”

“You've got dentures.”

“Posh dentures.”

Stuart suppresses a smile. Barely. “It's not gold.”

“Which ones of us'll be handing it over?”

“In English?”

“Well there's kiddo you and me, in their thirties you and me, in their fifties you and me-”

“It's one lot of actors playing us at thirty and fifty. They just slap some make up on them or do something with effects.”

“Hope it's the you actor.” Murdoc awkwardly tugs off his joggers. Stuart helps him with his t-shirt. When Murdoc makes a grab for the suit trousers, Stuart pulls them out of reach with a frown. 

“Aren't you having a shower?”

“Did you just ask that with a straight face?”

“It's a fucking lifetime achievement award.”

“So you said, my memory's not that fucking bad yet. I'm going as is or I'm not going.”

Stuart shoves the trousers back at him with a mutter of “fucksake”. 

“They're only giving us the award because of the fucking film. No one's given a flying fuck in years but one little movie and suddenly everyone wants to know us. Always said we should do a movie, didn't I?”

“You did, and now we have. What's your point?”

“I was right.” Stuart pulls out his own suit. Murdoc eyeballs it, then Stuart. “Wondered why you'd gotten tarted up.” 

“You mean shaved?” 

“S'what I said. Can see my reflection in your head.”

“Poor sod.”

Murdoc grins with amusement. “Hope it's the you actor, the thirties one.” Stuart's unsure whether Murdoc means to repeat himself or if he's trying to get a reaction. He assumes the latter. 

“How come?”

“"Cause he's got a six pack, full head of hair and a nice set of pearly whites.”

Stuart rubs his head. “And I don't?”

Murdoc laughs croakily. Stuart fastens the trousers for him, then helps him into the shirt. Murdoc's expression, as always, looks caught between fond and frustrated. “Hollywood might have taken some liberties.”

“We ought to sue.”

“We should, then we could use the cash on the basement, put in the studio finally.”

Stuart's tempted to try and move them onto another topic but resists with a sigh. “It's a waste of money.”

“Only if we don't use it.”

“We haven't written anything in years.” Stuart almost regrets saying it, Murdoc's disappointment is so instant and obvious. 

“Because we don't have a studio.”

Stuart can't think of anything to say that won't end in an argument. He roughly shoves the cufflinks into Murdoc's shirtsleeves instead, missing repeatedly before he succeeds. Murdoc tries and fails to straighten one red Flying V. Afterwards, he looks down at his hands and Stuart steels himself for what he's about to say. 

“I can't get it off.”

The words throw Stuart. He frowns at Murdoc, about to ask for an explanation when he sees how he's staring at his left hand ring finger. The plain gold ring cuts into the flesh above one swollen and sore looking knuckle. Stuart's about to reach out and make some attempt to tug at it when he grabs his own shirt and pulls it on instead. Murdoc watches with the slightest of smiles. 

“Leave it.”

“Not sure we've got another option unless you've got shears to lop it off.”

“The ring or your finger?” They smile at that. “Leave it,” Stuart insists.

“Look who's repeating himself now.”

Stuart flips him off. “You said it: the film's got everyone interested again. Throw in this,” he holds up his ring finger, “and there'll be bidding wars for exclusive interviews.”

“Better cash in, quick.”

“Yeah, better do.”

Murdoc's smile is less greedy and more pleased. “Knew there had to be a reason I married you.”

Stuart knows his own smile’s identical. “Fingers crossed we'll figure out why I suggested it one of these days.”

“‘Til then, I'll wait with baited breath.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Come say hey on Tumblr (elapsed-spiral) if you fancy it!


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